


promise you'll hold me

by kontj (kaguol)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Guard Reader, How Do I Tag, Knight Reader, Knight!Reader, M/M, Other, Prince Bokuto Koutarou, Reader-Insert, War, Yearning, so much yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: in the many times he had asked you to stay, there was only one time that you couldn’t
Relationships: Bokuto - Relationship, Bokuto Koutarou & Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/You, Bokuto/reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	promise you'll hold me

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to my tumblr acc with the same username

Underneath the mass of plush pillows and lavender-scented sheets, big round golden eyes bore holes into the ceiling, lips quivering as tiny hands gripped a tearstained pillow.

The princeling had awoken some time ago from a nasty dream, and had left his tiny heart thundering with fear. He would have bounded out of his bed and trotted over to his parents’ chambers, but as the shadows in his room twisted and turned, the walk to the ornate door became an extension to his nightmare.

So, with all the courage in his tiny body, he plopped himself down onto his bed and tucked himself in, pillows surrounding him for protection. Try as he might, the fear of returning to the dream overweighed his fatigue.

“Kou?”

He turned, peeking from behind his wall of feathers to the creaking door. The boy visibly relaxed as another tiny body padded its way towards his bed, the familiar set of footsteps calming his racing heart.

“Y/Ncchi!”

You brought a chubby finger to your lip, exaggerating a shush. “What are you doing here?” The princeling’s voice was his best attempt at a whisper, to which you giggled softly. You took off your knapsack, a grin on your face as you pulled out its (only) content.

Bokuto’s eyes widened, the light returning into his golden eyes as you proudly presented your latest creation.

It was _supposed_ to be a bird, but with lopsided stitches on mismatched cloth, it was barely recognizable. But, to the two of you, the big button eyes and soft triangle beak were more than enough.

“This is so cool!”

You puffed out your chest at his compliments as he ran his hands over the toy, tracing the thread with curiosity. Before you could open your mouth to explain the stitches, the sound of shuffling could be heard from the other side of the young prince’s door, indicating the arrival of new guard.

The two of you clamped your hands over your mouths, wide eyes staring at the moving shadows from the crack at the door, and the muffled voices on the other side. You knew that your time with the royal was up, and that your only escape route was either through the balcony or to face the new guard.

“Or you could stay here!”

Bokuto gazed at you expectantly, already making room in his gigantic bed. He placed the owl you made at the top of a stack of pillows with a grin. You contemplated your choices for a short moment – it was either stay until the next shift rotation and sneak out then or climb down three flights of stairs through his open balcony.

With a sigh and a fond shake of your head, you scooted over towards the prince. Taking the owl from its perch, you placed it in the middle of the two of you. “No cuddling!” you crooned, mimicking the tone that the royal advisers had often used around Bokuto’s displays of attention.

He jutted his bottom lip out in a pout, before reaching over to clutch your sleeve. “Just this once?” Golden eyes stared back at you, and you could only sigh before reaching over to hold him.

“Fine,” you said with the roll of your eyes.

 _Technically this doesn’t count right?_ You mused, running your hair through his soft hair as he nuzzled into your neck with a self-satisfied grin.

“I’ll be gone before first light anyway,” you muttered.

Bokuto hummed, the vibrations making you giggle. “’S fine. Just promise to hold me till then.”

And you did – even as light fell from the sky and the door creaked open for his personal attendants, who clutched their hearts at the sight of the tiny prince clinging onto you like a life line.

* * *

It was the last time that you had gotten away with sneaking into his chambers without injury, for the attendants were quick to rouse you and smuggle you back into your own, but that didn’t quite stop your rendezvous with the prince.

As the sun rose and its light fell upon the streets of the kingdom, you strapped leather and metal onto your limbs, a glint of hunger as you faced the rest of the trainees for another day on the field.

The royal contract was nothing more than a piece of paper, no larger than your hand, as you tried to keep it steady, signing over the remained of your childhood days to a life under oath to protect the king and his bloodline.

You were barely ten-and-two, feet slightly raised so you could hit the minimum height requirement. You didn’t quite understand the look your mother gave you when you came home with the piece of paper – yet you didn’t miss the tears that streamed down her cheeks when you took off your father’s rusty sword off the mantle.

While you tumbled along the dirt, learning to wield spears and to deflect fists, Bokuto had every gentle bone in his body broken and ground into fine powder, the childish glint in his eyes dimming as he was drilled with countless battle strategies.

You spent the day building up muscle to withstand heat and cold – hands calloused as you swung the sword and threw the spear.

He learned how to use his voice to convince people to die for a cause even he himself doesn’t understand well.

The two of you were different sides of the same coin, children born into a cruel world where the currency was the blood of innocents and the gold of the working class. While he sat amongst royal viziers who spoke of the numbers in their army as pawns rather than people, you were training to become one.

When the sun set and your hands burned against the hilt of weapons, the young prince stared at his soft skin, unmarred in preparation for the river of red that would soon follow.

The moon was full that night, casting a soft blue light that seemed to make the castle glow. For a moment, the statues in the garden seemed to relax upon their posts, only to stiffen back into their poses as a shadow crept towards the open balcony.

Near-silent footsteps glided across the in-laid stone, before disappearing up into the trunk of a tree that had been alive even before the current heir. You smiled, even as you dangled from a stone pillar, your limbs acting on pattern.

Pulling your body upwards, you swung a leg over the balcony. Stepping into the chambers of the crown prince, you bared a grin, dagger glinting in the moonlight.

You waited for the blow, yet were met with only the cackle of the lit fireplace. Bokuto was on the foot of his bed, barely changed out of his royal garb. He stared at his hands; lips etched into a frown.

“Hey.”

Toeing through littered books and discarded clothes, the stiffening of his posture was the only indication that he heard you. He let out a breath as you took a spot next to him.

“Did you know…” he began, “that most of our fish are imports from a small village in the east?”

You could only hum, trying to conjure the image as he began to rattle out facts about it – the population, the livelihood of the people… Bokuto was so descriptive that for a moment, you swore you could taste the salt of the ocean.

“They want me to use the village.”

The sharp intake of a breath cut through the heavy silence that descended. You didn’t need to ask, for the answer would always be the same from when you had asked before.

A _sacrifice_.

The weight of your respective roles came crashing down then, and you could only shut your eyes to shake the dread pooling at your stomach. Turning to the prince, you tilted his head to meet yours, before taking his hands into yours.

“What do _you_ want to do, Kou?”

Your voice was gentle, full of promise and hope. Yet your eyes spoke another story, and for tonight, Bokuto let himself believe in your voice.

He opened his mouth to reply – law reform, peace treaties, inter-kingdom delegates – but his eyes beat him to it, spilling onto the ground and racking his lungs with sobs.

You held him, feeling the weight of the kingdom in the hands of a boy who barely lived on this earth for five-and-ten sun cycles, come crashing down. He clung onto you, even as his sobs pattered out into sniffles, his voice raw and his eyes bloodshot.

It pained him to part with you, and it was evident by the whimper that escaped his lips when you disappeared into the connecting washroom, bringing a small basin of water and a clean towel. For the most part, he was silent, letting you gently pat the damp cloth over his face and raiding his closet for a night shirt.

By the time you had helped him under the covers, his eyes were barely open, the fatigue finally catching up. You stared at his form, his wild mess of hair fanning out onto the plush pillows, mouth slightly ajar as his breath started to even out.

Before you could step away, a hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks.

“Stay.”

You turned, cocking your eyebrow at the sleepy figure. “I prefer not to be treated like a dog, Your Highness,” you teased, even as you began to undo the laces of your boots. The jab was met with a groan, but he moved away to make some space, finally relaxing when you slipped into his arms.

For a few moments, the world was quiet enough for the two of you to pretend that everything was okay. That you were just two kids cozied up in bed, relying on each other for warmth, in every sense of the word.

And like always, you waited for the first rays of sunshine to trickle into the balcony, gently prying his arms from your figure and padding your way outside. Before you jumped from the balcony, you dared to look back, only to smile.

There lay Bokuto Koutarou, crown prince and sole heir, mouth agape and slightly drooling – clutching a glorified scrap of rags that used to resemble something of a bird.

* * *

That night would be the last of your interactions with the young royal for a long time. Though it ached to be away from your only friend, part of you already knew that it was temporary.

But there was no time to linger on what ifs and could have been – not when the threat of war became more and more pronounced. Your childhood memories blurred as you were whisked away from the comfort of the inner district and into the training grounds far away from your home. Now and again you’d find your eyes wandering to the palace, wondering if the boy you had played with before actually royalty, or someone your imagination had conjured in your lonesome.

Each year, new recruits would come in, each one younger than the last. You learned then how to stare straight ahead, nails digging into your skin as you listened to the whimpers of mere children staring down the length of a longsword.

It wasn’t long before the first squads were deployed, and the number of overseers diminished. Slowly, you found yourself with a puppet rank in order to break in the much younger ones. You learned how to grit your teeth and steel your eyes, hiding your fear as you taught a boy no taller than your sibling to hold a spear properly.

There was no room for gentleness when you led a life committed to violence.

Yet, there were moments of silence that you remember, one where the gods were kind and given you a moment of reprieve.

It was the day that you had received your uniforms, seemingly a present as you were only a few weeks shy of nine-and-ten. By then, you’d been the eldest to not be deployed, and the badge that came with your tunic was testament that it would be long before you’d ever see the battle grounds.

 _Palace guard_ , you whispered, tracing the immaculate carvings of the kingdom seal.

“We’ll miss you, you know.”

The familiar voice cut through your train of thought, the guilt settling in your bones. You turned, meeting the honeyed eyes of your comrades, their hands gripping their darker uniforms.

In the light of the bonfire, it was only yours that stood out – the golden details glinting in the fire, tailored to fit your frame, and sewn with a precision you knew had to be handmade.

A pang of guilt struck you then, when you stared at the barely recognizable lumps of cloth that they held, each one no different from the other. The same cut, the same nondescript shade of brown, that would only provide so much warmth and comfort, given that they were to be shipped off to who knows where.

Though their eyes were tinged with fear, there was a hint of pride that surfaced, for it was ingrained in your minds that to lay down your life for the sake of your kingdom was of the highest order. Though the cloth in your hands cost much more than everything you own, it also came with a leash around your neck, to subject you to the royals every beck and call.

It was the same cruel fate, wrapped neatly in a different shade of deception.

“I’ll be here.”

You sighed, putting on a smile as you called each and everyone that gathered around you. Their names rolled off your tongue with little ease, as your throat constricted with the tears that threatened to spill.

When you finished reciting each and every one, you heard your own echoed back, with the voice of more than twenty faces that you taught to fight tooth and nail. Only then did you permit yourself to cry, hands gripping on each other as though it would keep you together.

Come morning light, with bloodshot eyes and raw throats, you put on your bravest face as you led your troupe to the square, to present your troupe to the people and send them off to a battle no one really knew what was about.

Fury and defiance kicked and thrashed in your chest as the last of them settled into the carriage, the youngest staring back at you with bright orange hair and a wide smile.

“We’ll see you soon!” He yelled, waving goodbye.

During your own ceremony, you stared ahead into the crowd, muttering the names of each one of your twenty-seven comrades and the tiny details that you collected of them. With a final breath, you released a final prayer. Fate had been cruel enough to take them away from you, yet you only wished for their names to never to be spoken by anyone else. Their names belonged to a time of happiness beyond immediate danger.

Not in a roster of the newly carted dead.

Lifting your chin, you stared right into the eyes of your new commander as he pinned your badge onto your uniform, striking the makeshift stage with the butt of your spear as the ceremony ended, deeming you part of the new palace guard.

Marching through the crowd, you kept your breathing level by repeating the Oath of Binding over in your head. The words fell naturally from your lips, yet your mind drifted off, catching sight of a rundown atelier. A singular memory flashed through your muttering, one of pricked needles and a lump you carried around – as well as bright gold eyes and a large grin.

The memory flitted away before you could grasp it, and though it was swift to depart, it was enough to get you through the trek to the palace’s golden gates.

* * *

“Tonight,” he began, his voice echoing through the courtyard with so much authority, it seemed even the wind obeyed his voice. “You’ll be presented to the king. There will be a banquet, one of many as you begin your duty here in the palace.”

There was a hint of a smile in his speech, but you didn’t dare look to confirm your suspicion. Had you looked; you would have seen a grin that was mostly teeth than smile – a wolf baring fangs as he welcomed you into the fray.

“The moment you mess up, you’ll be sent back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and banned from the castle for life.”

The shiver that ran down your spine didn’t deter you from vocalizing your affirmative, your shaky voice hidden in the chorus of many. You trudged along with the others in single file, parting the gaggle of servants who scurried to add last minute touches to the banquet.

Your group stopped in front of an intricate door, the grin on your captain’s face now a vicious grimace. As the great doors opened, you sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught of wealth.

The hall was packed with people with connection to the royal family. It was almost blinding to see them in motion, with their glittering jewelry and over-the-top regalia. Their languid movement screamed of their wealth and privilege, and you could only grind your teeth to keep your face neutral.

As the king wrapped up his speech, you and the fifteen other guards knelt on one knee, reciting the words that were fixed into your speech.

**_“For the glory of the kingdom, for the honor of the Family – I offer my sword, and I lay down my life.”_ **

The crowd’s joy rang in your ears as you spun, facing the nobles whose mirth was as artificial as the shimmer of their gowns and the feathers of their headpieces. Your breath hitched as they approached, loudly poking and prodding at your armor, voice patronizing as their cooed over you.

“So young!” they repeat, even going as far as to pinch the cheeks of the blond guard on your right. He flinched, sending the noblewoman into a fit of giggles as she dragged him away, his armor masking the stumble in his steps.

A sudden hush and spike in conversation brought you back to the present, the royals pushing away from your line to somewhere behind. Though they tried to maintain an air of dignity, it was obvious what the excitement was about.

The Prince was stepping down from the dais.

From the lecture that afternoon, you learned that the royal family had stepped back from mingling with their subjects – even those that have long been around the castle. The queen still held court in the gardens, but the number of participants had dwindled in the recent months, and the king himself would only entertain his closest advisers.

This made the nobles more than desperate to take any crumb of attention from their rulers, their desperation reeking through what semblance of dignity they tried to put up.

With the momentary commotion, you slipped into the shadows, taking your assigned post near the balcony. From there, you had a perfect view of the ballroom, and a light breeze coming in cooling your frazzled nerves.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

The crowd cheered, repeating the phrase as the band began to play. The throng of people began to break into pairs, stepping into the center of the floor to sway with their partners. Your eyes followed the dual-toned tresses of the young prince, your mind itching for a memory that tried to resurface.

_“Look Y/Ncchi! I learned a new dance today!”_

One line of dialogue, yet it came with a rush of emotions you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Warmth, you think, eyes snapping into the present as you came in contact with a particular shade of amber that looked gold in the light of the ballroom. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized with a jolt that you had been staring _unabashedly_ at the crown prince.

And that he was staring right back.

Fear gripped your body, freezing you in your place. Hastily looking away, you missed the look of recognition that passed his face, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Your Highness?”

Bokuto was snapped out of his thoughts, schooling his lips into a grin as he peered down at the courtier in his arms. The words easily tumbled out his mouth, their lips curling in delight at his attention. Yet, he was far away, mind wandering as he twirled more people through the dancefloor.

_“Kou, you suck at dancing!”_

He couldn’t help the rush of heat to his cheeks at the memory – his awkward hands on another person’s waist, feet not cooperating with his head and stepping nowhere but on his partner’s toes. He felt a rush of embarrassment, yet there was a warmth in that memory that he couldn’t place. Bokuto quickly excused himself, heading towards the direction of the balcony to get some fresh air.

The cold breeze whipped his hair around his face, the young prince letting out a rush of air. His muscles burned with the effort of keeping the peace, hands taking out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow and the false smile off his lips.

Undoing the top buttons of his tunic, he ran his fingers through his hair, freeing them from their confines under the heavy coronet. Thankful for the moment of reprieve, he settled into the metal outdoor chair, gently laying his cheek onto the cold surface of the stone table in front of him.

He didn’t realize he was asleep until he heard the festivities in full action, the sound of the lyre sending him flying out of his seat. As he tried to regain his vision from the barrage of dark spots, the sounds left as quickly as they came, with a faint click of the door and the shuffle of metal.

Turning around, he saw the same pair of eyes that caught his attention, belonging to one of the newly appointed guard.

You bowed low in front of the prince, setting a pitcher of cold water and a goblet onto the table. Repeating the motions, you kept your eyes down as you made your way back to the revelries, only to be stopped in your tracks by a hand on your wrist.

The touch was fleeting, as Bokuto realized his mistake for grabbing you, diving into a flurry of apologies with a bow of his own.

Hurriedly voicing your assent, you were met with a firm shake of the prince’s head.

“No, don’t apologize – I was obviously in the wrong there.”

His consideration surprised you, as well as the sound of his voice. It was a bit hoarse, no doubt from the night’s cheers, but there was a vulnerability in it that was so distinct yet you couldn’t seem to place where you heard it.

Bokuto met your gaze once more, yet this time, it didn’t hold the same boldness as it did inside the ballroom.

“…Can you, stay?”

Though he tried to make it sound playful, there was a tone of hesitance in his voice, a note of fear that dips and makes itself known. You don’t miss it, nor do you miss the twitch in his hand as he catches himself.

You realized, a little too late, that the prince in front of you – in all his regalia – was just as much a frightened child playing dress up as you.

You couldn’t help but soften, heart clenching with an ache that you’re too familiar with.

Dipping your head low to conceal your smile, you agree, “Of course, Your Highness.”

Bokuto was thankful for the manner of your agreement, as the heat took over his face. He didn’t wish to think that he had coerced you into saying yes, keeping his mind on the hint of a smile on your lips as your eyes met once more. Without passing through the better parts of his brain, the words fell from his lips with ease.

“Please, call me Kou.”

He faltered, eyes widening at the realization. You bit the inside of your lip at his obvious panic, tilting your head to the side as you dared to counter him.

“Is that a royal decree, Your Highness?”

The air left his lungs, as Bokuto saw the teasing smile on your face. His heart stuttered, eyes blinking twice before his body restarted in the present, finding himself out of breath and struggling to get a single word out.

“Yes.”

You nod, unclasping your newly pinned badge and tucking it into your pocket, wanting to honor the request of the currently uncrowned prince, his coronet dangling dangerously on the edge of the stone table.

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, _Kou_.”

* * *

“Come on, Y/N, please?”

You could only groan, gently massaging your temples. “For the last time Kou, I’ll still be at the masquerade.”

“I know that, but I want you to come with me.”

“Again, I’ll still be with you.”

“Not like _that_.”

You’re thankful for years of practicing a mask of indifference, for the stutter in your heart would’ve given you away. You dare not risk a glance at the prince, eyes finding comfort at the festivities in the garden below.

The air in his chambers is laced with a tension that both of you are aware of. You know what he’s trying to imply, and he knows that you’re too stubborn to acknowledge it.

And, how could you? When the very ball that he’s talking about is the one that his father threw specifically to find him a suitable partner, now that he was almost of age. The entire kingdom was aflutter in the previous moon-cycle, in preparation for the hundreds of possible suitors who were vying for the hand of their beloved prince.

“Ask me of something I can give, Your Highness.”

Your voice is clear, tearing through the silence like a bullet. Turning, you meet his gaze, and he sees the resignation in your eyes, his excuses dying on his lips. The prince clenches his jaw, eyes hardening with anger at the utter defeat in your eyes.

You take his hands in yours, bringing the knuckles to your lips and pressing a feather-light kiss on each one, a gesture of the highest form of respect and adoration.

Of love.

His voice wobbles with his effort to keep the tears at bay, yet Bokuto pushes through.

“I want you to stay.”

 _With only me_ , he wants to add. _Forever_ , whispers his heart.

Yet he says nothing, watching as you nod, letting go of his hands and going down on a knee in front of him.

“For the glory of the kingdom, for the honor of the Family – I offer my sword, and I lay down my life,” you repeat, striking your chest.

“And I shall live by your side.” You meet his eyes, lips stretched into a smile.

“For as long as you permit me.”

* * *

The band is in full swing when you arrive next to the prince, greeted by the chorus of joy from the eager crowd. Though you appear as his personal guard, you stand several steps behind him, unseen by the crowd who have eyes only for him.

You smile, relishing at the compliments he is showered with, as you appreciate his finery. His tunic was of a soft midnight blue cloth so dark it was almost black – with intricate golden embroidery that brought out his eyes. His hair was fashioned into a low ponytail, coronet retired into the palace vaults, in favor of a lighter head to dance around with.

The night wore on with merriment, yet there was a palpable strain in the face of the guests who approached the crown prince. It was a very exclusive event, that even the nobles who were of usual attendance were not permitted unless they were specifically invited. Though you were tasked to watch over him, when it came to the many dances that was offered to him, you remained near the dais, hand on the hilt of your sword.

There was no shortage of ill intention, so your neck prickled with fear every time a courtier got a little too close. Definitely fear, and not some sort of longing to be the one he holds close, hands around his as he waltzes you with no care in the world.

Definitely _not_ that.

Your heart quickens as he catches your eye, foolish grin on his face as he winks in your direction. It was selfish to want him for yourself, when you knew that the two of you had a role to fulfill. Still, you longed for it – just as much as he longed for you.

“My apologies,” you murmur, dipping your head as a man crashes into your, half of his face obscured by jet black hair. You dare not raise your eye, focusing your vision onto the large pendant on his chest that tinkles as he walks away. Despite his rudeness, you smile at the image of the black cat with tiny ruby eyes.

Your thoughts are cut off by a scream, pandemonium breaking loose into the golden halls.

The great doors are thrown open, hooded figures waltzing into the ballroom wielding their weapons. The crowd surges of the other exits, only to be frightened back by the figures entering the balcony with equal ease.

Maneuvering through the throng of bejeweled bodies felt like wading into the sea during a storm, but that did not even put a dent in your stride. You did not care whose body you pushed away, your eyes lasered into the figure of the figure rapidly approaching the crown prince and the duo of courtiers gripping onto him for dear life.

Your sword sings as you unsheathe it from its scabbard, fling yourself in front of them just in time to block the strike. You push, sending your opponent staggering to their feet as another charges for you. Their movements are slow and uncoordinated, their weaponry mediocre at best.

 _Commons_ , you think, shaking off another with the hilt of your sword to their face.

Your troupe is quick to rally with you, the rest of the guards pouring in and subduing the intruders with minimal damage. There aren’t a lot of casualties, save for the few scrapes and bruises from the earlier stampede.

As you tighten the rope around the hooded figure’s waist, you catch a glimpse of a smile, and the glint of a pendant peeking through the hood.

Your hand shoots out to grab it, heart dropping as you realize where you first saw the very ruby eyes and Cheshire grin.

Breaking away from formation, you rush towards the prince, haphazardly pushing away the nobles in front of you. With frantic eyes you scan the room for him, the air leaving you lungs as you spot the wild hair whispering in Bokuto’s ear –

And the rubied dagger he held.

“Kou!”

His eyes widen as you appear in front of him, your hands gripping his shoulders. Before he could even open his mouth to ask, crimson trickles from your mouth, your body falling limp into his arms.

The room erupts into chaos, hands grabbing at the prince to steer him away from the scene, yet he neither hears nor cares.

“Y/N?”

His voice is unsteady, disbelief crossing his features as he holds you in his lap, the gaping wound smearing blood on the floor and onto his tunic. “Y/N?” He tries again, bringing a trembling hand to your face as you gasp for air, hand gripping his arm.

Your eyes meet his, and he nearly drowns in the fear that coats the normally vibrant hues. You could barely speak, breaths coming out in loud gasps as your lungs struggle to keep you alive.

Yet, through the agony that he knows you are in, you manage a smile, face scrunching up at the attempt. “Hey Kou.” Your voice is weak, too weak. Adrenaline rushes into Bokuto’s veins, as he turns to the others to fetch a physician, for someone to help – to do _something_ – only to be stopped by a squeeze and a shake of a head, a feat that took all of your energy to do.

“Hey hey hey, don’t worry, alright? You’ll be fine – you’ll be okay.” He’s blabbering now, eyes stinging with tears as he tries to mirror the smile on your face with one of his. Your eyes glaze over, drifting off to the high ceilings as your breath stutters.

“Look into my eyes, my love,” Bokuto croons, gently tilting your chin towards him. “You can’t go now, you promised me.”

You cough weakly, unsure whether your blurring vision is due to your tears or your rapidly fading consciousness. “Pretty low blow, Your Highness.”

He sputters, caught between a laugh and a sob. “Hey,” you say, tugging at his sleeve. “I think I’m going to have to leave.”

Kou weeps, gently pressing his forehead against yours, shaking his head as though he could delay your departure by sheer force of will. “It’s okay, Kou.” Reaching up, you cradle his face in your hand, staring up into his eyes as you feel the warmth of his smooth hand over yours.

Channeling everything left unsaid, you smile, blinking away the tears just to see him clearly. One last time.

“Just… promise you’ll hold me, okay?”

And he does.

He holds you close, even as his heart shatters as he listens to you take your final breath, watch as your eyes glaze over, your hand going limp in his.

He holds you close, his wailing heard throughout the kingdom, as they pry your body off of him, his body too weak to protest.

He holds you close, head hung as he stares at the casket, the grave, and finally the stone. He’s the one to personally deliver the news to your parents, bearing the brunt of seeing the light fade from their eyes, hands clutched to the side as they hold each other back from hitting him.

He wishes they did.

There are whispers of your affair, yet are silenced by the stares of the people who have seen him walk the entire way from the palace towards the burial grounds. Though the palace isn’t decked with the same dark colors for mourning, their sunshine prince’s grief is a cloud that settles throughout the kingdom.

He holds you close, several years later, as he wears the ring of another. The kingdom had long forgotten of your bravery, and as much as it pained him, he knew you’d be more than happy to be out of the spotlight, especially because of the news.

He sits cross legged in front of your grave, hand gripping the lump of cloth and feathers that used to resemble a bird. It had been after your funeral that he learned of the childhood you shared with him.

“No more sacrifices,” he whispers, staring at the golden band on his ring finger. His marriage was a necessity, a union with the opposing kingdom as a gesture of goodwill to appease each other’s front lines. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start negotiations and pull back the troupes in the mountains.

“They’re safe you know – all twenty of them,” he begins, a smile on his face, listing off the names of each of your found family. He tells you of the fiery haired boy who took your place as his personal guard, and the chaos the ensues whenever he’s within range of the others.

The air is filled with the sound of night, and he relaxes, letting the cricket’s serenade sooth him.

“I miss you, Y/Ncchi.”

He leaves your old gift to him on the glass box near your stone, pressing a kiss to his fingers and tracing your name with quivering hands.

He may not be able to hear your laugh not kiss your smile; he makes good on his promise.

Bokuto Koutarou keeps the memory of your life close to his heart, awaiting the day that his arms may hold you once more.

**Author's Note:**

> god this monstrosity is finally done,,, let this be my magnum opus bc holy shit am i proud of this,,,


End file.
